Nova Peak gentle reader

@Elowen

he returns to the peak come night fall with his wife in tow. keeping her tucked close to his side, his dark fur melding upon her softer, lighter tones.

there is no sign of the warrior man now, and lorcan is under the assumption he has returned to his tall peak, where his own woman awaited. lorcan, dutifully, leads elowen upon the green rise they would make their home.

a nice hollow awaits them, or what was the beginnings of a den. long since abandoned, and lorcan makes use of it, and has widened it in a half-hour. listening to elowen's soft humming of a song. he steps back when finished and goes to her, pressing nose to her mouth.

sleepy? brassy voice asks.

elowen had spent much of the evening curled against him, her body heavier now with the weight of their growing children. The past weeks had left her aching, her stomach beginning to swell with her pregnancy, a product from their midnight tryst beneath the waterfall. she was more tired than usual—sleep tugged at her persistently, and even now, she felt its pull.

when lorcan pressed his nose to her mouth, she exhaled softly, her lips curving faintly against him. it was the sickness that had plagued her most—a relentless nausea, exhaustion that pressed upon her like a dense fog. she tried to keep it from him, but she could only do so much.

“a little,” she admitted, blinking slow. "you’ve been busy." a gentle tease, though not without gratitude. her appetite had been fickle, and only two third’s of it made it to her stomach. now, all she wanted was to rest, tuck herself away in the den he had made for them. 

elowen pushed the top of her snout to his chin inhaling his breath for her own. “stay with me?” she knew he would, but she wanted to hear him say it, wanted to feel the assurance of him beside her when she drifted into sleep.

he hums approvingly as she burrows into his fur. her snout finding his chin, tucking there, seeking his warmth, his light. he offers it to her willingly. he pushes closer, coming to sit with her, wrapping a strong foreleg about her body; pulling her close.

always. he says lovingly against the temple of her head. but his attention is drawn away, as he pulls back, seeking her gaze. a paw coming to press flush to her belly, which had grown only a little. it was her first pregnancy, so lorcan didn't expect much from her. her body would do what it could.

he presses a kiss to her nose. my dove. a loving cadence in his voice. content to be beneath the stars with her. you are strong. he voices to her in a tongue that her ears would be deaf to, but it was reverent still. it was his—he hopes his children feel the thrum of their ancestors in his speech. our pups. great hunters and great warriors.

it is his hope that his children must never go down the path his life has led up until now.

her breath shudders softly when his paw finds her belly, and for a moment, her throat tightens with something tender—too raw to name. she had felt the change in her body long before it showed; the ache in her bones, the constant nausea, the gnawing exhaustion that never quite relented. but his touch… it made it all feel worth it.

her eyes flutter shut when he kisses her nose, his words soothing against frayed edges. strong. he says it like it’s indisputable, like fate,
as if he doesn’t see the cracks in her foundation—her legs trembling when she rises, her appetite near nonexistent despite her growing belly.

still, she nods, because she wants to believe it too. "they’ll be like you," she whispers, "fearless." a faint, wobbly smile tugs at her mouth as she presses closer to his touch, craving the steadiness of him. "you’ll teach them… won’t you?"

her stomach gives a sickly lurch then, sharp and unwelcome, and she grimaces through it, refusing to mar this moment with her own weakness. "they should know where they come from. your blood. your strength." she doesn’t realize how fiercely she means it until the words leave her mouth. "i want them to be proud." proud of him. proud of themselves. not cursed to follow in his shadow, but emboldened by it.

his dark paw stills.
she trembles beneath him and her mate pulls her closer, worry etching itself upon his face. looking down upon her with eyes of gentle gold, that in his life he thought might never hold such an emotion.
it is odd what he feels for elowen. not quite love, but not the opposite either. it is a strong urge to protect, to possess, to feel. and he felt a fullness upon his heart the way she looked at him.
it was to be needed.
yes, he says, i will teach them.
of course he would. he presses his nose to her temple, breathing in her steady, sweet scent. he feels the lurch of her gut, sees the grimace she tries to hide. instinct snarls in him, protective. and they will know their mother. her fire. her heart. he presses a kiss to her snout.
please, elowen. he takes a paw to lift her face to his. so that he may look upon her eyes. stop doubting yourself.

elowen's breath hitches at his touch, at the weight of his words. the tender pressure of his paw lifts her chin, and she looks up into his eyes, her own doe-eyed gaze soft and uncertain. the words stop doubting yourself echo in her mind, but her heart still races, a flutter of uncertainty that she can't quite quell.

she wants to believe him, truly she does, but the weight of her own inadequacies still lingers, gnawing at her in the quiet moments when his presence isn't enough to chase away the doubts. she swallows, trying to steady herself, her heart thudding against her ribs.

i— her voice falters, the words tangled in her throat. her eyes flicker to the ground for a moment before she meets his gaze again, the faintest hint of a smile forming on her lips. i’m just... afraid, sometimes. afraid that i’m not enough. that i’ll let you down. let them down.

her voice is a whisper, vulnerable and unsure, but she forces herself to speak, to let the truth spill out. but i’ll try. for them. for you. she presses closer, seeking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. they’ll know your strength. your heart. and... and i’ll teach them the same. i want them to know they have a home, no matter where they go.

her stomach twists again, but she breathes through it, unwilling to let it break this moment between them. she reaches for his paw, pressing it gently against her belly, as if grounding herself in the warmth of his touch.

lorcan listens, and for once, says nothing. his kind of care is jagged at the edges, shaped by wounds that never fully closed. but still, he listens.
you won’t let them down, he says quietly.
her paw finds his and presses it to her belly. he feels the warmth of her beneath his pad, the slight flutter of life growing inside. it doesn’t feel real. it never has.
he swallows hard, them pulls his paw away. eyes flickering away, rising suddenly to his paws. unknowing of how to play off his own fear as it roots deep.